The Fifth Annual Boring Mitchell Holiday Letter (2005)

I ran across a blog after Googling myself & found that my legions of clamoring fans are anxiously expecting this to be nothing short of the most hilarious load of crap ever. Christmas came at a really inconvenient time for us this year, so I apologize in advance if it leaves a lot to be desired.

In February, when we put our house on the market, I had to abandon my Sanford & Son housekeeping style & try to become June Cleaver. (You know you’re old when you refer to sitcoms that aired when there were only 3 networks). I cleaned, organized & decluttered with an obsessive finesse that would put even the best FEMA administrator to further shame. The kids got tired of sleeping on top of their covers, taking sponge baths & peeing outside, but they developed valuable life skills like straightening rug fringe, hiding dirty laundry in the car & avoiding decorative hand towels. We sold the house in June & moved into a rental not far from our 3-acre lot where we started building. The kids had to share a room, but they were just glad to sleep under the covers again. Our new house was completed this month & we just moved in. I had the brilliant foresight to label 90% of the boxes “Miscellaneous,” so we should finish unpacking & be settled by mid-2008. Our new neighborhood is full of deer, most of them still living. Our first housewarming gift came from our dog Buzz who dropped a lovely buzzard-pecked 6-point buck head on the front porch.

Our year’s highs & lows both occurred in August. Our first day at DisneyWorld, we were chosen (no doubt for wholesome good looks & well-groomed, mannerly children) to be the parade’s Grand Marshals. Katy showed off her pageant queen wave while Luke gave everyone a Hook ‘em Horns. Mike (the perfect Clark Griswold) videotaped the entire thing. We now have 23 gigabytes of a thousand envious tacky tourists waving at us. A few weeks later, Luke was riding his dirt bike & ran his skinny belly smack-dab into the short side of an open tailgate. He was airlifted to Houston where he spent 16 days in PICU. He lost 60% of his pancreas & had to have a grade 3-4 liver laceration repaired. He’s fully healed & back to abnormal, always ready to display his 8-inch scar to anyone willing to look. (I, however, am still recovering.)

The real miracle during Luke’s hospitalization was Katy’s behavior. She handled it with amazing aplomb & was a blast of sunshine when we needed it most. Now she’s back to her old self, making “air quotes” with her fingers as she rolls her eyes & says “What-Evahh!” She embraces life with a near-freakish Tom Cruise-in-love enthusiasm. She started kindergarten at the primary school because the nearest military academy wouldn’t take her. She just turned 6 & declared herself a vegetarian, then changed her mind when I told her she’d have to give up chicken nuggets & foot-long chili cheese dogs. She earned her yellow belt in karate after mercilessly pummelling another little girl into submission in front of a cheering crowd. In spite of her hereditary intelligence & Dr. Phil-inspired self-psychoanalytical ability (“I don’t feel like I get enough attention”), she still wants to be a cheerleader when she grows up. Her favorite phrase: “I’m not whining, that’s just how I talk!” When asked what she learned in Sunday School, she told us the little-known Bible story of Joseph Crabshack, Meshach & Abednego. When asked where she got a hat she was wearing: “Mom got it at Old Navy, or maybe Salvation Army.” I had to explain the difference between those two branches of the military.

Luke’s adjusting well to the bubble wrap I dress him in & (much to my grief) is already riding his motorcycle again. He got his green belt in karate & is looking forward to playing basketball next year. After Mike had Luke eat his first jalapeno (both of them with tear-filled eyes), Mike offered him a drink. “No thanks, Dad, I want to feel the burn.” That’s our Texas boy. He enjoys reading 4 or 5 books at once, stealing coins from fountains & wearing boxer shorts that stick out over his baggy jeans—clueless how cool he looks. He’s 9 now, in 3rd grade & usually smarter than his parents. After I tried to help him with his homework & twice told him he was wrong when he wasn’t, I said, “Stop laughing at my math skills.” His reply: “You call it skills?” I’m so proud he’s making good use of my smart-mouth gene. For Halloween, he dressed as the grim reaper, oblivious that he came too close to meeting the real one. The day after accepting a citizenship award, Luke found himself literally in deep doo-doo when he ventured to a forbidden area at recess & jumped on a sewer pipe until it broke.

Mike still enjoys zipping his aging body around in an F-16. (Good thing I take care of disabled veterans.) He went to Poland in March & Tucson in April. In June, he went to Alaska & then to Dover for another NASCAR fly-by (just in time for me to move us on my own). He did an airshow with the Confederate Air Force in Midland, then went to Phoenix in October. He spends his free time riding his dirt bike, trying to master sudoku puzzles & visiting the welder he wants at Home Depot. On our 14th anniversary, he wrecked his truck, then I went out for margaritas with some girlfriends. We celebrated that weekend, but neither of us can remember what we did. He’s coming to terms with the obscene amount of stuff I’ve accumulated & I’m trying to respect his decorating suggestions. My plan to open a store on eBay may be thwarted if he makes good on his bonfire threats. We also agreed that he’d leave town again next time we move.

I continue working tirelessly to bring in negative amounts of money practicing veterans law & acting as unofficial incompetent legal counsel for my fellow misguided church members. When I’m not in a persistent vegetative state, I sell Beauticontrol, go on scrapbooking retreats & see how many Bed, Bath & Beyond coupons I can dig out of our neighborhood mailbox pavilion trash can. For next year, I resolve to actually get things done rather than just make daily “To Do” lists; wear protective glasses when I vacuum Luke’s room so I’ll never get another microscopic Lego stuck in my eye; & check Katy’s sheets for dog vomit before demanding she get in bed.

We’re blessed beyond measure & eternally grateful to everyone who prayed, visited, sent care packages & helped us through the surreal time after Luke’s injury. Being stuck in Houston was bad enough, but living in a children’s hospital could’ve been unbearable. Instead, I felt a supernatural peace that carried us through. When you’re at your weakest & you let God carry your burdens, He’ll carry you as well.

I look forward to pulling a runaway bride stunt next month, but after that, you can reach us at the address below. We wish you all a most meaningful Christmas & a New Year full of joy & peace.

Love,
Jill, Mike, Luke & Katy